


Fifteen Minutes Past

by missmichellebelle



Series: CrissColfer Bingo [1]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Friendship, M/M, Study Group, crisscolfer bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1768813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris had thought forced group work had been done away with as he graduated from high school to college, but apparently not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifteen Minutes Past

**Author's Note:**

> For my CCBingo prompt: **Study Group**.

Chris loves the library. Not just because he loves books, but because it seems to be the only place on campus where people are basically required to be quiet. It’s the only place where there isn’t some underlying social expectation that he has to fulfill. It’s the only place he can lose himself—mentally between every page and physically between every bookshelf.

But as much as Chris loves the library, sitting in the room he has never felt the necessity to enter (much less _use_ ), foot bouncing impatiently and mood getting fowler with each passing _second_ , is not something he even remotely enjoys. This place is his haven, and he is slowly tainting it with his growing agitation.

He glances at the clock, watching as the minute hand ticks to 4:15. Scowling at it, Chris decides he’s wasted enough of his afternoon and starts to stack his things. He didn’t even _want_ to do this stupid group study guide thing, and he wouldn’t be if his professor hadn’t made it mandatory. To make it worse, the groups had been _assigned_. Chris had thought forced group work had been done away with as he graduated from high school to college, but apparently not.

He’ll just have to do the study guide on his own and stick the other three people’s names on it. It’s not even remotely fair, but he’s not going to let his grade suffer because the people in his group are apparently all flaky jerks. Especially on something as easy as a study guide.

Chris has just finished stuffing everything into his backpack when someone approaches his table, most likely to snatch up the prime real estate he’s about to give up.

“Chris, right?”

Chris stills, blinking at empty space before he looks up at the guy who’d addressed him. For some reason, Chris glances down at his shirt, like maybe he’s wearing a name tag (which he’s obviously not).

“Um, yeah.” Chris’s eyes dart to and from the stranger, and then he resumes zipping up his backpack. “You can have the table in a minute, I was just leaving.”

“Leaving?” The stranger asks, raising his eyebrows and the friendly smile falling from his face. “Isn’t this, like, the group thing?”

Chris sits up straight, finally giving the guy his full attention.

“What?”

“The group study guide thing, for Professor Warner’s class?” The guy seems a lot less confident all of a sudden, and glances around like maybe he’s in the wrong place.

He might be, but Chris can’t be certain. He’d gotten the names of his group members and their phone numbers off a powerpoint slide, and he’d known to be at the library because one of them (her name is Kate) had texted him and set it all up. Which is funny now, considering she’s not even _there_. But Chris has no idea what any of his group mates even look like, and he racks his brain as he tries to remember the names. He’s pretty sure one of the other ones was Alexis, so this must be…

“Darren?” Chris ventures, feeling unsure, and the guy looks immediately relieved.

“Yep. Hey.” It’s not at all a formal introduction, and yet he holds out his hand for Chris to shake (which he does). “Sorry I’m late,” Darren continues, sounding so earnest that Chris can’t help but believe him. “I had a guitar lesson and it ran late. I got here as fast as I could.” Chris takes Darren in as he pulls out a chair and basically collapses into it, noticing that his curly hair looks a little damp and the skin of his neck is slick with what must be sweat.

He’s kind of… Insanely attractive. Chris almost wishes he had one of those clichés where he’d noticed Darren before, but Professor Warner’s Art History class has nearly three hundred people in it and the only one Chris thinks he might recognize is the girl who sits two seats away from him consistently.

“You’re learning to play guitar?” Chris asks, his smile feeling a little forced—working in groups kind of reinstates the expected social interaction that he dislikes so much.

“Nah, I teach,” Darren replies nonchalantly, like it isn’t a big deal, and then stares at the empty space in front of Chris. “Shit, I’m _really_ sorry I’m late. Do you have somewhere to be? Did Kate and Alexis already leave?” Darren’s eyebrows pinch together, and Chris’s mouth thins into a line.

“No. They never showed up,” Chris responds, going for clipped but knowing he sounds more deflated than anything.

“Fuck,” Darren mutters. “But hey, I’m sure there’s a good reason,” he offers, with another easy smile. Chris looks at him and can’t help but wonder what his story is, where he gets this blind faith in people that he seems to have.

“Sure.” Chris doesn’t believe it, and he’s pretty sure Darren can tell by the tone of his voice, but he doesn’t say anything else.

“So… Did you have somewhere you need to be? Should we try to set up a meeting for another time?” Darren hedges. Chris thinks about the paper he has to write, and the reading he has to catch up on, and how he really doesn’t want to have to put aside another afternoon to get this stupid thing done.

“No.” Chris smiles tightly. “If you don’t mind working on it without the other two, I was hoping we could just power through it.” Chris nearly offers to just do the entire thing himself—it would certainly be faster—but stops himself. It will only make him bitter and resentful, after all.

“Sounds good to me.” Darren smiles a lot—this easy, effortless smile. “I’ll text Kate and tell her to work on it with Alexis when they have the time, and then we can compare them.” He immediately takes out his phone and does so, and Chris stares at him like he’s not sure he just heard right—Darren is ensuring that the two people in their group who had decided not to contribute… Actually do.

It shouldn’t be such a novel concept, but… It is.

Looking at Darren, Chris never would have taken him for the kind of person who made sure that everyone in a group did the same amount of work, or who would feel so bad about being late to something, or would somehow recognize Chris out of a class of three hundred people.

But Chris reminds himself not to judge a book by its cover—after all, he spent the majority of his life at the whims of that unfortunate attitude. The last thing he wants to do is perpetuate it further.

While Darren texts, Chris pulls all of his things back out of his backpack. There’s a sudden well of anxiety inside of him, now that his annoyance has subsided and he’s faced with the actual task of participating in a group environment. Not even; it’s just the two of them, which means that Chris can’t take his usual role of _sitting silently until they divvy up the work and then volunteering to do the most_.

He’s going to have to actually participate in the conversation, and the discussion. Darren is going to expect him to.

When Darren’s attention is back on him, Chris nearly splays the deck of flashcards in his hand like an impromptu game of fifty-two pick-up (although the count is really closer to ninety-six).

“I made flashcards,” Chris says (stupidly) when no other words come to him, and Darren’s eyebrows raise.

“Now that’s dedication. I’m lucky if the notes I take make sense when I read them later,” Darren jokes, and Chris cracks a smile, even if he feels something akin to stage fright as Darren takes half of his stack of flashcards and starts flipping through them. “I’m fucking lucky I got paired with you. This study guide thing is going to be _cake_.” Chris could take it as Darren want to riding on his coattails, but he doesn’t—it sounds too much like a compliment that Chris finds himself blushing from it before the words even register completely. “Let me guess, you were one of those super prepared and organized people in high school, right? I bet you never faked a source on a bibliography, or wrote a paper the night before, huh?”

Chris almost laughs, because he _absolutely_ did those things. Sometimes, he looks back on his high school years and wonder how he ever managed to even get _into_ a college, much less one actually outside of Clovis, outside of California. He’s still not great at school, but it’s a lot easier to retain information when going to school doesn’t make him feel like he’s going to vomit.

Besides, he has the constant, dooming feeling that his parents will have to mortgage the house to keep paying his tuition, and so Chris has no intention of slacking.

But he doesn’t say any of this to Darren. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. Just smiles a tight smile and flips open his notebook, pulling out the hard copy of the study guide he’d brought with him to make the whole group process less painful.

“Here.” Darren holds out his hand, and Chris knows he’s gaping a little as he hands the packet over to him. “I’ll write everything down. I can type it up later, too, unless you want to?” Darren glances at him, and Chris’s mouth shuts closed until he’s ready to use it for _talking_ and not just being dumbfounded.

“Um, no. I’ll type it up. If you don’t mind.” Typing is almost more second-nature for him than breathing, but, again, that’s not really something Chris intends to tell Darren.

“No problem. Although I feel kind of useless.” Darren let’s out a chuckle, which Chris knows is self-deprecating but that doesn’t sound it at all. “You already know all the answers and you’ll be doing all the work. I get the feeling you don’t even need me here.”

 _I don’t_ , Chris thinks almost immediately. He always has, and probably always will, worked better alone. Art History is a class he isn’t even _remotely_ worried about, and he wouldn’t even bother with the study guide if it wasn’t mandatory. But it is, and he isn’t going to say no to easy points to help pillow his final grade.

But Chris can’t help but wonder if maybe Darren _does_ need this.

“How about you read the question and try to answer it on your own first?” Chris suggests. “And I can give you hints, or tell you what the correct answer is and why, or… Or something.” It sounded like a good idea in his head, but Chris hasn’t always been very good at articulating his thoughts.

“Are you pitying me?” Darren asks, and Chris almost jumps to defend himself (he _isn’t_ pitying him, he swears) when he sees Darren’s teasing grin. “Trying to make me feel useful?”

 _Trying to help you not fail the midterm_ , Chris thinks, and at Darren’s startled laughter, realizes he also said it out loud.

“Wow, man. That’s harsh. You think I’ll fucking fail without your tutelage?” But Darren doesn’t sound mad—he sounds more amused than anything. Chris finds himself gaping again, and before he can come to his defense, Darren starts talking again. “If that’s the case, we’d better get started. But come over here.” Darren gestures to the spot next to him. “I don’t want to read the questions to myself, I’ll feel like a dumbass.”

And Chris can’t help but smile at that, a little bigger than he has the whole time, and Darren’s own grin grows as a response.

So Chris resituates himself, his skin feeling a little warmer when he catches the scent of what must be Darren’s shampoo and laundry detergent.

“Okay, so, um…” Chris clears his throat, attempting to get a hold of his thoughts (and the temperature of his face and neck). “This 18th century artistic movement and style originated in France and is defined by its use of light colors, asymmetrical designs, and playful and witty themes. Name this style, state the reason for its existence, and cite at least three artists and their works as examples…”

*

The next time Chris has his Art History class, that girl who’s name he still doesn’t (and will probably never) know continues to sit two seats away from him. But rather than those two seats staying empty, the same way they have been for the entirety of the semester so far, Darren is sitting in the one closest to Chris, legs folded up on the seat and glasses sitting on his nose.

And between Darren’s comments (sometimes lewd, sometimes deep) about the art, and his hushed, “ _Dude, if you type any faster, you’re going to break the sound barrier_ ”s, and Chris’s constant, “ _shhh_ ”s and, “ _shut up_ ”s, Chris can’t help but think how nice it is to have someone he knows in one of his classes.

Maybe this whole _making friends in college_ thing isn’t as hard as he’s been making it out to be in his head.

Then again, maybe it’s just Darren.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Read & Reblog on Tumblr](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com/post/88460229740/fifteen-minutes-past)


End file.
